Singing a New Song

The Rector’s Report, 2009

The Rev. C. Dean Taylor

Behold, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise from the end of the earth! (Isaiah 42:5-12)

This morning’s sermon will be the Rector’s Report for 2009, with meeting in the Parish Hall to follow at noon. But before I say anything else this morning—and I hope if there’s only one thing you hear this morning, it is this—Thank You. Thank you to all who have supported this parish this year, in the worst economic crisis since the Depression.

My counterpart in our companion Diocese of Tanganika, Africa—the priest in a small town in a remote village where there has been a drought the past year—people have lost most of the crops, most of their herds of goats and cattle—said this to his parishioners:

“My brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ, some of you had 50 goats, and now have only 10 goats, and you have given a goat to the church; (That is a tithe, 10%). Some of you have given a chicken; some of you with only one chicken have given an occasional egg: for all of it, we thank you. Because of you, Christ lives in this place.”

So, to all of you, first and foremost in this Rector’s Report, Thank you. Because you have given even when you have lost much yourselves, the ministries of this Church continue. Christ lives in this place.

Like our African brothers and sisters in Christ, our financial drought continues as well. But this morning I don’t want to just say, “Folks, we need your support for these ministries to continue—which we very much do. In fact, I wonder if some have had the thought that, without the assistant’s position, we don’t need it as much as we did. Nothing could be further from the truth. You’ll hear details in the Parish Meeting. But our support to our Diocesan programs are at risk, as our own ministries as well. We must end 2009 strong financially. Some things are very simple, as simple for St. Mark’s as paying your pledges for 2009.

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But this morning I want us all to step back and look at the bigger picture at St. Mark’s. And here’s how I want to do that. I’m going to ask you to use your imaginations this morning in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever asked you to do before.

Imagine, for a moment, that you and I, here, in this room, are actually meeting not in this sanctuary but rather, across the interstate and half way up the hill in the auditorium of the Dalton Trade and Convention Center. All of us here this morning, you and I, but we’re all gathered in one of those auditorium spaces over there that will fit us all.

Why are we all gathered at the Trade Center? Well, because there’s no such thing as St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, and we’ve all led our lives to this point without it. But somebody’s put an ad in the local newspaper, and partly spread the word by mouth, that there’s an interest in starting a new church in this area. Why would anyone want to do that?

Because there is a need, in this community, we think, for another kind of Church. Another kind of church that does not exist anywhere around here. A kind of church that, first of all, gives its people the freedom to say whatever is in their hearts and minds, even if it might be considered blasphemy by other churches. A kind of freedom of thought and intellect and expression that respects the mind that God gave us, and is not afraid of a great, great diversity of opinion and even belief.

But we’re also looking for something else as well, and that is the experience of being in the presence of God, an experience of the sacred, the Holy. A time and a place, set aside, perhaps a place of beauty where everywhere you look, it lifts up your vision toward heaven. And time—holy time, time that we all could set aside, and come together and just be quiet. And say a prayer, and sing some hymns and hear beautiful music, take in the sacraments, that mystery of bread and wine that “Is” Christ.

Are you imagining all this so far? Are you with me here? All here, or there, rather, sitting together at the Trade Center. And so we’re sitting here, and we happen to look around at one another, and we think about who this odd, eccentric group really is, and we say to ourselves two things.

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First, we think to ourselves, “This is a group of folks who are doers in town. They’re the ones who want to make a difference in the world. Whatever church we form here will definitely have that spirit of ministry as part of who they are.”

The second thing we will say to ourselves, as we look around the room, is, “You know, these people are partiers!” This group alone pretty much keeps the Planet in business, and I’ve been to some really, really fun parties with these people. Whatever this church is that we form in this town with these people, it’s going to be fun.

And so, we’re just at that point in this meeting when some have suggested that the Episcopal Church, in the ancient Anglican tradition, is a perfect model of the kind of church we need to be, with a deep tradition, and yet a great freedom. The group likes this idea.

Just about that time, somebody bursts in the door, saying, “Oh my God, you’ll never believe this! You’ll never believe this! Someone has donated to us two huge buildings, over on Emery Street across from the graveyard. It’s got thousands of sq. feet of space. It’s got a great, beautiful worship space that seats over 200, and the most beautiful, Holtcamp organ you’ve ever seen. We can have this space. It’s ours, all paid for.

Well, what do we do? What do we do next? I expect that someone shouts out, “Let’s go over and see this place!” and everyone gets in their cars and comes over here and walks through this space. “Could use a little paint here and there,” some say, while others are looking at the classroom space. “What if we did this or that with this space over here? Hmmm.” Everybody is talking excitedly, and imagining, and beginning to plan. Can you imagine how excited that first walk-through would be?

Here is my proposal to you on this 22^nd day of November, 2009, in the midst of the worst economic period since the depression, two missing staff positions that we have come to depend on these past twenty-five years.

My proposal is that we are in that place. Everything I have described is perfectly possible for us, in this room, right now. And so I invite you to look at this church not from the perspective of what we lack or what we’ve lost, but rather, from the perspective of what we have.

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What are the basics of what we have? We have these beautiful buildings and grounds, this wonderful worship space, these classrooms already built and paid for (just think—no capital campaign for a new building! Somebody on the Finance Committee say Amen!) And we have this incredible Anglican heritage, in worship, in a freedom of thinking.

And you’ve even got some staff. An incredibly efficient part time parish secretary and excellent, committed part time bookkeeper, and wonderful part time sexton; you’ve got a priest who is not particularly gifted at administration, but who loves to preach and to take care of people in their crises.

Then, of course, speaking of basics, you have something else very, very important. You. You have one another. You have each other. You are the gathered body of Christ, and the spirit of Christ already moves in and through you.

You are called to be that body in this town. You have particular and peculiar gifts and talents that are desperately needed in this broken world. And, you have particular and peculiar gifts and talents that will bring life and liveliness to one another. To put it in layman’s terms, you’re a committed bunch; but you’re also a fun bunch.

What do you do with these basics? I propose that, beginning with the Vestry, and continuing down through every single part of our parish’s life, we wipe the slate clean. We wipe the slate clean of assumptions and things we’ve always been told that we have to do a certain way. We ask the simple question, “What’s the best way to run this or that ministry at this time?” What makes sense?

How best to teach our children or shepherd our youth? Maybe we need to hire somebody whose sole job is youth; or somebody whose entire job is children’s education. And maybe that doesn’t need to be a full time assistant as we’ve done in the past, but maybe very part time. But I’m also talking about every part of our church, from the way we run our Vestry to the way we organize the setting of the altar or organize our outreach or communicate with one another or welcome our newcomers. (he vestry has already started last week. What makes sense, 12 person or 9 person? Nine? Let’s do it.)

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What I envision in this kind of planning is to have the kind of freedom that those imaginary people from the Trade Center meeting might have on a first walk through. Imagine, for example, a group of Young Adults with children walking through these buildings for the first time.

They wouldn’t say, “Well, we have got this inherited schedule of supper at 6, an hour of children’s choir, and adult ed at 6:30. Now, what can we plug in to that schedule? Or, what do we do about getting parents to bring their children to Sunday School at 10:00 on Sunday morning?

No, they would say something like, “What do we want to accomplish here? What do we want for these kids? And, given the reality of our lives, what makes sense as a way to accomplish it?

And so you start to play around with ideas, different times, days, kinds of things kids do for choirs or Sunday School, and maybe someone says, “You know, whenever we do all this, what if we made the environment more inviting for parents? Look at Panera Bread!

Could we put in some comfortable furniture, maybe a coffee bar, maybe a donut machine for before Sunday School (a friend of mine in Virginia actually does this. Gets the kids there a half hour before Sunday school because they are fascinated with their real live donut maker!) What can we do creatively with this or that space? Where can small groups gather? Where can people really feel comfortable?

And soon, somebody says, “Hey, you know that so-and-so is an interior decorator, or so-and-so person has some architectural skills. Let’s get them over here. Oh, that other person I thought about is not in our group so far. Who cares. Invite them to participate.

And then it happens. That’s the kind of planning for the future I’m talking about. And what if that kind of thinking happened in Adult Education, and Altar Guild, and Festivities Guild, and Buildings and Grounds, and—in fact, maybe not even in those old categories. Who knows?

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I’m calling this effort “New Beginnings.” And I propose that the Vestry begin at its first meeting, or at least at the Vestry retreat in January, and that they guide the rest of the parish in this planning. The goal: for us to be visionary—and excited—about this church. We are, if we choose to be, at that place of vision and excitement. That place where, we’re so caught up in our ministries, that we all give the one goat out of the ten instead of bemoaning the 40 that we’ve lost.

So that is my vision for our parish this year. I do have, however, a kind of “epilogue,” to my Rector’s Report that I think needs to be given, and epilogue that might be titled, “The Elephant in the Room.”

Someone walked up to me, pointed a finger in my face, and said the following: “You are not plugged into this job. You are not as excited as you used to be, and I’m angry about it. You need to decide that you want to be here or not.” What made this somewhat difficult is that the person who told me this is my wife! But that’s what spouses are for, I suppose. That is, of course, the elephant in the room: my ministry as rector of St. Mark’s.

I believe that I was called by God to be the rector here when I came, and I also believe that I was called into a process of discernment as bishop of Georgia. I believe that I, along with the four other candidates who did not win the election, we all called to lend a unique voice to the life of that diocese.

The good that has come out of it, however, is that it has made me come to a decision about my ministry here. And I believe that I am called to be your rector in this next era of our lives together.

I had a sort of “break through moment” about this a short while after the election. You know, sometimes God speaks to us in the voice of our friends. I had lunch with a non-Episcopalian friend of mine who is a counselor, and this person said to me, “What do you love to do, I mean, besides canoeing?” And I said, “Oh, teach, preach, write, be with people in their life struggles and help interpret things; I like to celebrate with people and have fun.” Then she said, “What’s your parish like?” And I said, “Well, they like to think things through; they’re opinionated, artistic, and all the craziness that goes with that; they love to have fun.”

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And so this counselor thought hard for a moment. This is a counselor who has seen the underside of some terrible Church conflicts and really bad situations. And so she says, “So what’s the issue here?” And then, “Look; What if you had done something else with your life, had a mid-life call to be a priest, and now, suddenly, here you are, priest in this incredible church?

“hat if you saw this job as brand new? As an incredible gift?” Then she thought a moment and said, “Why don’t you just learn how to be a better administrator, and then go have the time of your life?”

So that’s my plan. And so, I invite you along with me for the time of your life. I love being your rector. It’s the greatest job in the world. And I hope you feel the same excitement about being part of this body of Christ.

You know what’s the most incredible thing of all? To be part of this body of Christ and have the time of our lives was God’s will all along.

Jesus did keep saying that the Kingdom is like a party, after all (I’m not making that up!) The Kingdom is a party, and to get there, as Isaiah tells us this morning, we are called to “sing to the lord a new song.” (That’s our ending hymn, and I hope we sing it with great gusto.)

Behold, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise from the end of the earth.

Thank you for your support of this church, this body of Christ. Now, let’s Sing a New Song. Let’s have the time of our lives. Amen